Apprentices: a SWTOR Story
by Tulak Porg Lord of the Sith
Summary: 3649 BBY. Four years after the Great Galactic War, and the galaxy is reeling from the chaos it inflicted. Add two politicking Councils, a Sith apprentice, two Jedi Padawans, and a dash of piracy, and the stage is set for an adventure that will force both Jedi and Sith to overcome their differences, for the good of the galaxy. The will of the Force truly is ineffable.
1. Chapter 1

_Imperial Intelligence Headquarters_

_Dromund Kaas_

_3649 BBY_

A Sith Lord rarely receives a friendly welcome, even from his allies. "What exactly is he doing here, sir?"

Sitting at his desk, the man known only as Keeper looked up from the terminal he was studying. The strands of a thousand Intelligence operations met and entwined in the tangled web of its memory core, waiting for his attention. He frowned, displeased with the interruption. "You would do well to keep your voice down, Watcher Three. It is unwise to provoke a Lord of the Dark Council."

Watcher Three lowered his voice, but the tone remained unflinchingly hostile. "That man has no place here. This falls entirely out of his jurisdiction!"

Keeper sighed. "A Sith's jurisdiction extends as far as he wants it to, Watcher Three. An unfortunate fact, perhaps, but a fact none the less. And one you would do well to remember." There was a clear warning tone in his voice now, a warning to drop the subject before it was too late. It already may have been. Every conversation within Imperial Intelligence was recorded, and all their visitor would need to do was ask for the right tapes to discover Watcher Three's insubordination. And the Sith were not known for their mercy towards dissidents.

Keeper returned to reading the reports. After about a minute, his eyes flashed back up to his subordinate, now pacing his office furiously. "What is he doing now?"

Watcher Three glanced outside. "Talking with Fixer Seven. I hear they're working on a project together, some new kind of droid. And that apprentice of his is locked in what seems to be a heated discussion with the new kid, Watcher Eleven. I hope he packed his respirator."

"Have you warned him about the dangers of associating with Sith?"

"I don't think I'll need to."

"Let's hope that is not the case," muttered Keeper, now examining digital copies of the ledgers of a junior member of the Hutt Cartel. "For his sake." With a sigh, he stood up from his desk. "I'd better go see what our guest wants."

He carefully arranged his face into the image of polite deference, and walked out his door, Watcher Three following close behind. At the other end of the command room, the Sith Lord ended his hushed conversation with Fixer Seven as they approached, and turned to face them. Yellow eyes glinted in the shadows.

Keeper bowed; stiff and formal, a gesture of respect that nevertheless subtly hinted at a measure of authority. "Darth Reliyk. It's an honour."

"Good morning, Keeper," the Sith smiled. Darth Reliyk had an easy, welcoming smile, like a benevolent grandfather. Keeper wasn't fooled. For all his charm and genteel manner, Reliyk was still a Sith Lord, and their kind never meant you well.

The amber light of the eyes strayed, questioning, and Keeper obediently obliged. "This is my deputy, Watcher Three."

Behind him, Watcher Three bowed curtly. "My lord."

"It's a pleasure- truly." Reliyk's voice was every bit the refined Alderaanian aristocrat, and he emanated a sense of confidence and grace with every syllable. His smile remained warm as he acknowledged the Watcher's bow, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of amusement. "I doubt the feeling is mutual, however. You wonder why I concern myself with Intelligence, Watcher Three?"

Watcher Three's professional mask slipped for a second, and naked fear shone through. "It- it is not my place to ask, my lord. I only-"

"You only wish to know why I am here," Reliyk finished. "It is an understandable sentiment; the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge rarely involves itself with Intelligence matters. Something, however, has come up."

He turned to the huge, circular command table in the centre of the room and quickly tapped in a reference code. A holographic image of a _Terminus_-class Imperial destroyer, clearly already queued up for viewing, materialised above the table, along with a basic star map of what Keeper vaguely recognised as the Ojoster Sector. The spymaster permitted himself a small, rueful shake of the head at this casual tampering with sensitive Intelligence equipment, but he knew from bitter experience that that was where his protest must end.

Darth Reliyk stood back from the table, and gestured towards the images. "I understand you spy types like your briefings to be as concise as possible, so I'll keep this brief. Two weeks ago one of my ships, the _Aphra_, disappeared over Taris. It was carrying several important artefacts of personal interest from a dig on Denova. The last communication we received was a distress call, saying they were under attack from a Republic vessel. I had some of my associates look into the matter, and it turns out no Republic warships had been deployed within a hundred parsecs of Taris in the last six months." The corners of his mouth twitched. "Curious, no?"

Keeper frowned. "There may have been no documentation of a deployment, my lord, if the mission was a secret. Especially since attacking an Imperial ship would violate the Treaty of Coruscant. The Republic would want to leave no proof of their involvement."

"I had thought of that, funnily enough," smiled Reliyk, his voice once again amused. "We archaeologist types are not all naïve and incompetent, you see. But just last week, I received a very angry complaint from Darth Vowrawn that the _Aphra _had been spotted attacking Imperial shipments near Bandomeer. That got me thinking, so I had my agents do some more digging, and they discovered that a Republic warship matching the distress call's description had recently been stolen from a Republic shipyard on Brentaal." He turned again to Keeper and Watcher Three. "Your opinion, gentlemen?"

Keeper considered the facts carefully. "Their activity would suggest some breed of pirates. But stealing ships from right under the Republic's nose? Hijacking Imperial warships? That's daring. One might even say too daring…"

"It could be one of the crime cartels, sir," suggested Watcher Three. "They've been known to pull stunts like this before."

"Possible, but unlikely," Keeper muttered, still analysing the holographic data scrolling past his eyes. "Crime cartels don't get to be successful by angering major governments, they have much easier targets. Hmm…" He glanced over Darth Reliyk's shoulder to the agents working the terminals below the dais. "Watcher Six, run a search on any recent pirate activity in the Ojoster Sector. I want a report on all Class Seven Offences on my desk in two hours."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Keeper." Darth Reliyk deactivated the holoterminal and began to move away from the dais. "Are you confident you can find those responsible?"

Keeper chose to ignore Watcher Three's poorly concealed tut of distaste. "I believe so, my lord. Imperial Intelligence never disappoints."

"Very good. And you will notify me as soon as something comes up?"

"Of course, my lord."

Reliyk nodded, satisfied. "Come, Loka. We're leaving." At the other end of the room, his apprentice nodded farewell to Watcher Eleven and began to move towards her master. Reliyk waited for her to draw level, then began to head toward the exit. At the door, he paused. "Thank you again, Keeper, you have been most helpful. I'll be sure to commend you to Darth Jadus at the next meeting of the Dark Council."

Keeper watched two Sith Lords leave, and smiled bitterly. "Thank you, my lord."


	2. Chapter 2

Darth Reliyk's personal speeder was waiting for them outside Headquarters, its driver shifting uneasily under the watchful eyes of two Intelligence Operatives. He seemed relieved when his master climbed into the vehicle, and almost drove off without the apprentice in his hurry to get away.

Reliyk liked the simple luxuries of power, and his private speeder came equipped with an indulgent array of comforts. It boasted Terrantatek-leather seats, carefully padded and upholstered to its occupant's personal specifications, complete with recliners and cushions. Its holonet-enabled stereo could access any station in the Empire, and quite a few in the Republic. Listening to Republic broadcasts was technically treason, but since the last person to tell Darth Reliyk that had spent the next two weeks in intensive care, it rarely came up in conversation.

It also featured a coffee machine, and Loka eagerly helped herself to one as the speeder left the Citadel behind and began to move towards Kaas City. The young Pureblood watched her master inquisitively, her yellow eyes glinting with mild interest. "Keeper didn't seem too pleased at the thought of you singing his praises to Darth Jadus."

Reliyk chuckled softly. "I'm not surprised. Have you ever met Jadus?"

Loka shook her head. Reliyk smiled, and leaned back into his chair. "Well, let me tell you, the man is a monster. A complete sociopath, with enough power to take on a small battalion. You can just feel the simmering hatred of anything and everything stewing behind that mask of his. He's a zealot, and a fanatical one at that; I would be very surprised if his ambitions ended with the Dark Council. Poor Keeper has to deal with him every day."

Loka digested this in silence as the speeder entered the city centre and began to head for the outskirts. Reliyk sipped his own coffee and eyed his apprentice over the rim. "I noticed you were quite engaged with that Intelligence boy. Handsome, was he?"

"Hmm?" Loka pulled herself out of her reverie. "I suppose so. Why do you ask, master?"

The Dark Lord resisted rolling his eyes. Loka's mind ran on a whole different track than his, and he supposed that he should have known better than to drop any insinuations, however blatant. "What were you talking about?"

"We were discussing whether a tuk'ata could beat a vine cat in a fight to the death. It's proving surprisingly vexing."

Of course she was. That would be just like her. "The tuk'ata would win, surely?"

Loka laughed. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But Watcher Eleven made a very passionate argument for the Vine Cat. Apparently their skin is very loose fitting, so even if the tuk'ata got a good grip on it, they would still be able to twist around and keep fighting."

"Has he convinced you?"

"Not quite, I don't think. Even with that advantage, the tuk'ata is still much more intelligent, and their fangs would have no trouble piercing a vine cat's skin." Loka shrugged. "I guess we'll never know. You couldn't have a tuk'ata imported from Korriban, could you, master? Then we'd be able to lay the matter to rest once and for all, and Watcher Eleven can pay me those thirty credits he promised."

"I make no promises, so I break none," said Reliyk. "We have plenty of work to do, and I'll need you focused if we are to succeed. Those artefacts must be retrieved before my enemies get wind of them. I've already left myself vulnerable by opening up to Jadus' Intelligence lackies, so we have no time for distractions."

Loka's mood, always in flux, became serious. "Of course, master. You can rely on me."

"Good." Reliyk lapsed into brooding silence as he communed briefly with the Dark Side. Presently, his eyes flickered open, and their amber gaze fell once more on his apprentice. "Are you coming back with me to the Labyrinth?"

Loka shook her head. "Thank you, master, but I have business to attend to in Kaas City. If I may?"

Reliyk signed to his chauffeur to pull over. The speeder came to a stop on the edge of the Expansion District and Loka climbed out. Reliyk eyed her sternly. "Be back by evening, apprentice. We have much to discuss."

The low hum of the engines gradually faded away into the distance as the speeder disappeared over the jungle skyline, on its way back to the Labyrinth far away on the coast. Loka watched it go, then pulled the hood of her robe up to hide her face. Yellow eyes glowed in the shadows. The apprentice turned on her heel, heading into the city. Behind her, a shadow detached itself from the rooftops and followed.


	3. Chapter 3

_Orbiting Taris_

_The Outer Rim_

The Force was moving. Always. Deep in meditation, a Jedi could perceive its currents, a never-ending series of patterns and eddies that wrote and re-wrote the inter-galactic symphony of the universe. With the proper training, and a natural talent, a person could sense events happening across the galaxy, a thousand light-years of space glimpsed in a second. At this level, the Force transcended normal senses. After all, Master Tiyla had said, while the Force itself was beyond limit the mortal brain could only process so much. And so the brain tried to make sense of the infinity of the universe by rationalising it into things it understood. Like colour.

The Force was awash with colour. Every thought and every feeling of a thousand minds, a colour. Every event, every moment of potential, a subtly distinct hue in a masterpiece of light. With every colour came information, understanding that could never be put into words and yet who's meaning was known and experienced in an instant of blinding clarity. Clarity that transcended the normal boundaries of time and space, and the dull, tiring limits of crude matter.

Deep within the flowing river of the Force danced the Jedi. It rode high over the skies of Taris, crept into the dark tunnels of the ruined Undercity, shared the minds of the birds, the beasts, and even the rakghouls, as they devoured their way through a living death of hunger. It was the air, the earth, the chemical sludge that coated the earth, the emptiness of space that embraced the whole planet. It went beyond Taris: the Jedi surfed and flowed through the ripples of hyperspace all over the Outer Rim and across the galaxy; it swam through time, past and present, and a hundred possible futures. And the Jedi saw every single iota of it. It experienced every last laugh, tear, smile and growl, it felt every moment of love, fear, hatred and mercy. It watched a thousand seas of despair give birth to a million flowers of hope. The Jedi saw, and the Jedi humbled itself before the majesty of the Force.

A disturbance on the outside sent tremors running through the Force, tremors that shook the Jedi from its perch deep within the symphony. Abruptly, the Jedi's mind became two once again, and the abstract colours of the Cosmic Force faded away into the hard lines and lights that illustrated the Living Force that made up the world around them.

Still reeling from the sudden separation of minds, Rheni, Padawan of the Jedi Order, struggled to rein his senses back into the here and now. With some difficulty, he managed to re-focus his mind and perceived once more the cabin he sat in, its contours in the Force reassuringly similar to when he had dropped into meditation. The atmosphere within, however, was now coloured with the faintest whiff of danger, a trail of fear and anticipation that snaked out under the door and through the corridors of the ship, until it vanished from his Sight.

Opposite him, still seemingly lost in meditation, sat his other half. Rheni reached out again and, gently, tenderly, touched her mind with the Force. Something stirred in response. "Livia? Can you hear me?"

She smiled. "I hear you, brother of mine. You sensed it too?"

"How could I not? It is no small thing to disturb such deep meditation, to separate such a bond between two minds."

"No small thing, indeed," agreed Livia. "It would appear that our quarry has found us. We just took a hit to the rear-left thruster. Our shield holds, though; engine damage seems to be minimal."

"Right." Rheni sighed in frustration. "So much for convincing them to come quietly. Any handle on the minds of our targets?"

Livia shook her head. "Too much turmoil in the Force, right now; it will take a while for the waters to calm. All I've got is a general sense of fear, surrounded by much anger." She rose to her feet. "Quintus will be waiting for us on the bridge. We should go."

A flex of Rheni's will, and the door opened with a pneumatic hiss. Brother and sister made their way through the corridors of the ship, past crew rushing to battle stations, past Republic marines gearing up for the inevitable assault, past droids performing emergency maintenance on the _Thranta_-class warship's systems. Alarms wailed as the whole ship was put on red alert.

When the journey began, the Jedi's quarters had been assigned as close to the bridge as possible. After a couple of hundred metres down the main corridor of Level -3, a quick turbolift ride was all it took to arrive at the heart of the ship's command.

The _Hyrim _was hardly the biggest ship in the Republic fleet, but it had served capably as the unofficial flagship of Jedi Master Quintus Septimus Alde for the last five years, ever since the _Alde Frater _had been shot down during the last year of the war that would see the Sith come to dominate half the galaxy. Officially, however, it was under the command of Captain Tepik Ebon, and it was the Twi'lek who sat in the commander's chair, whilst Master Alde stood respectfully at his shoulder, his daughter Aelia at his side.

Quintus sensed the arrival of his two Padawans before they even set foot out of the turbolift, and gestured for them to join him and his companions, his intent clear through the Force. The two Miraluka began to weave through the bridge crew who manned their stations with grim professionalism, so that the Force around them was thick with determination, discipline, and a hint of subdued fear. At the head of the bridge waited Quintus, an island of calm and serenity in a sea of emotion that pressed all around at the young Jedi's senses. _Emotion, yet peace_, Livia reflected as she drew level with her master. The truth of the Jedi Code, albeit in its more archaic version, could be observed even in the most far removed of situations.

Peace existed too in the mind of Captain Ebon, though it was of an entirely different variety, peace built on confidence and certainty. An absence of emotion, rather than an emotion in itself. A difference, she mused, that even some Jedi found hard to appreciate. Captain Ebon was an experienced veteran of the Great Galactic War and he knew that a cargo ship, however illegally modified with weapons and shielding, posed no real threat to a fully armed and operational military corvette.

Someone might need to tell that to their quarry, however, which was now keeping up a sustained if ineffective bombardment against the _Hyrim_'s bridge. The two Padawans felt the ripples in the Force as glowing charges of superheated plasma dissipated harmlessly against the ship's shields.

Captain Ebon acknowledged the Padawans' presences with a courteous nod, then turned to one of his officers. "Lieutenant Ho'bhan, have the ion cannons return fire. Target the engines." He leaned back in his chair. "A pity to end this fireworks display, but we have a job to do."

The Kel-dor officer keyed the relevant commands into the console before him, relaying the Captain's orders to the ion batteries on the second floor. There was a slight delay as the gunners took aim, and then the darkness of space was illuminated briefly by two pulsing charges of ionised plasma. They cut through the freighter's shields like a lightsaber through durasteel, and the cargo ship was briefly lit up like a Coruscanti lights show before the engines failed and it floated dead in space.

A few officers clapped with fierce satisfaction at the ease and precision of their ship's response. Ebon indulged them for a moment, before waving for them to be quiet. He opened a line of communications from his chair. "Captain Ebon to tractor beam control. Target the freighter and bring it in." He ended the channel and opened another. "Attention, marines. Head for Docking Bay Prime and prepare for boarding. Ebon out."

Master Quintus nodded in satisfaction. "Well done, Tepik. We'll take it from here."

"Good luck, Quintus," the Twi'lek smiled. "We'll be standing by to assist as necessary."

Quintus turned and clapped his two apprentices on the shoulder. "Come, Padawans. We have a slave ship to liberate."


	4. Chapter 4

Commander Hebbin and his company met them outside the airlock. The commanding officer of the _Hyrim_'s marine compliment was a grizzled Zabrak veteran who had made his name leading the team that stormed the flagship of the Dread Masters back in the war and, along with Jedi Master Kaedan, had captured the seven notorious Sith Lords, though reports were confused as to what had happened next. After the Treaty of Coruscant, he had been re-assigned into semi-retirement heading security aboard the _Hyrim_, a twist of fate he had taken in his stride with typical military stoicism. He saluted sharply as Quintus and Aelia approached. "The men have been briefed, Master Jedi, and we're ready to move out at your command. Those slavers won't know what hit 'em".

"Excellent, commander," replied Quintus. "Once we've secured the docking bay, split the troops into three teams. Aelia will take the first to capture the bridge, and I need you to lead the second to secure the engine room, just in case some fanatic tries to trigger the ship's self-destruct."

"Yes, sir. And the third?"

"The third will go with my Padawans to liberate the slaves in the cargo hold." Quintus turned to Rheni and Livia, both standing attentively at his shoulder. "Be careful. The prisoners will be frightened, and their guards may well decide to put them beyond rescue. You need to get there in time to stop any harm from coming to them, understand?"

Rheni nodded, reading his teacher's earnestness through the Force. "Yes, Master. We'll get them out safely."

"Good. I'll be back on the bridge, meditating." Quintus turned back to the company. "Move out. And may the Force be with you all."

There was something beautiful about the efficiency with which the Republic military operated, a reassuring competence born out of years of experience in boarding and capturing a dozen different enemy vessels. Two Bombtroopers, each armed with a bag of nanoexplosives, rushed forward and planted their charges on carefully selected points on the enemy's airlock door. Their task completed, they quickly retreated behind the formed-up ranks of the advance party where, at a word from their Commander, they detonated. Before the newly atomised particles of the door had finished settling, the front line had moved forward, laying down a thick barrage of suppressive fire. Go in fast, go in hard, and never give the enemy the chance to rally themselves. Basic military tactics, but they worked.

The airlock was cleared in a matter of moments, and the next two waves of Republic troops flooded through the still smoking door to back up their comrades, headed by Aelia and the two Padawans. The fight was heating up in the rest of the docking bay as a motley assortment of pirates from various species returned fire with an equally motley assortment of blasters. Blaster bolts filled the air, flying in all directions, illuminating the bay with blue, red and green light as they pummelled armour, scorched flesh, and bounced off Jedi lightsabers.

Blind as they were, neither Rheni nor Livia could quite appreciate these finer points of pyrotechnics. To them, one blaster bolt felt very much like another, whatever the colour. But where their non-existent eyes failed, the Force came through. Every combatant- pirate, marine or for that matter Jedi- was a shadowy blue outline on the canvass of the Force, lacking in visual detail perhaps but each infused with a distinct aura and wrapped in a spectrum of thoughts, feelings, and secrets, utterly personal and utterly unique to them. Each a candle, aflame with life. And with each blaster bolt to find its mark, with each vibroblade that aimed true, another candle was snuffed out, its colours leaking back into the endless symphony of the Cosmic Force, lost forever in eternity.

The legendary Jedi General Jaric Kaedan had once told his class, in his customary gruff manner, that no initiate could ever truly understand the depth of a Jedi's respect for life in any form until they had stood on the field of battle and seen for themselves the destruction such death wrought in the Force. He had been right; on his first battle, Rheni had stood paralysed as he beheld the carnage surrounding him, so that if Master Alde had not been watching his back he would have been cut down there and then. Livia, even more sensitive than her brother, had actually passed out and spent the next day in the medbay. Now hardened by experience tempered with Jedi discipline, both Miraluka could overcome their difficulties, though their fierce respect for life remained. So as their lightsabers weaved their gracefully efficient arcs, the two Padawans dealt out disabling but decidedly non-lethal blows. A severed arm or leg, a lightsaber hilt rammed against an unhelmeted forehead, whatever removed the opponent from the equation but not from the land of the living. All life was worth preserving. Even pirate life.

The pirates fought with desperate ferocity, but the marines they were up against had cut their teeth driving back Sith Commandos. A rabble of slavers with aftermarket blasters posed little difficulty in comparison. After a fierce but brief exchange of blaster fire, the pirate lines began to break as they ran for the doors separating the docking bay from the rest of the ship. As the marines gave chase one pirate, a burly Weequay, darted through the doors and thumped the control panel on the opposite side. Through the closing gap and over the protesting cries of those pirates who had not yet reached safety, he raised his blaster and put a bolt of blue plasma into the control panel on the opposite side, frying the circuits. Then he ran.

The remaining slavers came to a stumbling halt against the now sealed bulkhead. Some hammered uselessly on the durasteel door. Some threw down their weapons and began trying to surrender. A few, braver or more stupid than the rest, raised their weapons and prepared to go down fighting.

Aelia, however, was having none of that. The pirates' blasters and blades were pulled out of their hands with a flick of her wrist, and when one tried to charge the marines with just his fists, the Jedi Knight lifted him into the air with the Force and slammed him back against the bulkhead, knocking him unconscious. The others gave up pretty quickly after that.

The marines dealt with the prisoners, cuffing them and sending them to the _Hyrim_'s brig under guard, whilst the Jedi saw to the door. Aelia examined it closely. "Hmm… what do you see, Padawans?"

One of the few edges Force sight had over the real thing, in the physical department at least, was an ability to see straight through even the densest materials. To a Miraluka, the door and all its workings were laid bare, as clear and obvious as the electrical and magnetic fields that flowed through it like blood flowed through organics. Behind the door, they could just about discern the shadowy figures of yet more pirates crouched in the corridor beyond. Their fear was palpable, and more so their hatred.

Neither Rheni nor Livia were particularly gifted with technology, but the Force at least offered some basic, instinctive guide. Everything was a pattern, and patterns could be discerned. "Electromagnetic sealing, Master Aelia," concluded Rheni after a few moments. "Pretty standard high security, really."

Beside him, Livia reached out and placed her palms gingerly against the durasteel, trying to get a better sense of things. "The polarity could be reversed through the Force, Master," she said. "It would take some time, though."

Aelia shook her head. "Time is something we, and more importantly the slaves, don't have. Commander Hebbin?"

Hebbin stopped what he was doing, which was supervising the last of the prisoners, and came over. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Can we blow the door down like last time?"

Hebbin laughed. "Stars, no, ma'am. This door is made from re-enforced durasteel with nano-carbonite plating. The amount of explosives needed to blow it down would take the ship with it. We'd be sucked out into space."

An audible _snap-_hiss, and the Commander recoiled instinctively as green fire leapt from the lightsaber hilt in Aelia's hand. "Very well. We'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."

Even with three Jedi cutting through it at once, the door proved infuriatingly stubborn. These pirates must have pulled of one hell of a heist to afford it, Rheni mused, as he forced his saber through it by yet another unyielding inch. It was hot work, in more ways than one, but eventually a large rectangle had been carved into the durasteel, its edges glowing softly with molten slag. Aelia motioned for her two charges to stand back, then focused the Force and thrust her hand forward. Five tonnes of durasteel were sent flying out the door and down the corridor behind it. Livia grimaced, less from the deafening clanging now echoing through the doorway and more from the destruction she felt the speeding debris wreak in its wake. More lives lost, however cruel.

There is nothing like a huge chunk of durasteel, shooting like a bowling ball down your ship and scattering your comrades in its screaming path, to cause a distraction, a distraction the Republic boarders capitalised on shamelessly. With any semblance of organisation gone, the pirates in the next room were easy pickings for the highly trained marines. Even as those quicker on the uptake than their fellows fled back down the corridors, away from the Jedi and their troops, the last dregs of resistance began to collapse under the weight of the Republic assault, and before long the survivors were being escorted back out the ship and to the brig whilst the Jedi split their remaining team in three and took their separate ways. For a brief moment, Livia heard the gentle voice of Master Quintus, wishing her one last _may the Force be with you_, and then she and Rheni were alone with their marines, fighting their way through a densely packed ship's corridor towards what they hoped was the cargo bay. With a bit of luck, and the Force willing, they would make it there in one piece.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi guys, it's me. Before we begin today, I'd like to thank you for sticking with me this far. It's good to know that the stories I've been dreaming up over the last two years aren't complete rubbish.

Please feel free to leave comments about what you think went well, what didn't work out, and what I could have done better. Also, if you have any suggestions for things I could add, or improve, or change, please leave a note in the comments section. This story is a work in progress, and ideas are always welcome.

Khem Val sends his regards, and wishes to express his heart-felt desire to devour your souls as soon as possible.

May the Force be with you.  
Tulak Porg, Dark Lord of the Sith

_Entertainment District_

_Kaas City_

As a species, Sith Purebloods sat at the top of the Empire's social hierarchy, widely regarded as the epitome of everything it was to be Sith. In many ways, they were the face of the Empire. Unfortunately, that made it almost impossible to blend in in a crowd.

She'd done her best. She'd swapped her Sith robe for a civilian cloak, with the hood up to hide the prominent bone spurs on her cheeks. She'd dirtied her face to both fit in with the people of the lower levels and hide her vivid crimson skin. A carefully precise application of the Force dulled the yellow glow of her eyes so that they would not be noticeable, at least at a glance. But Loka still felt exposed, no matter how much she kept her head down and tried to avoid attention.

She was good at not attracting attention. The key to surviving the Sith Academy on Korriban was to convince the more powerful acolytes that you were not worth the trouble of bullying, let alone a threat to their position. Any Sith middling in the Force who managed to get off the graveyard world alive learned how to make themselves seem small and unnoticeable. On Korriban, her race had been an advantage- she had become just one of the many relatively impotent Purebloods skulking in the corridors, shaming their ancestry with their weakness. In the busiest part of the biggest city in the Empire, however, it made her stand out.

The irony was that Loka didn't need to hide herself. There were many other Sith of all ages and races in the Entertainment District, flaunting their social status and mind-tricking retailers into giving them ruinous discounts. On any other night, she might have been tempted to join them. But Loka was not here for fun, not tonight. Her contact must not know her nature, not until it was too late for him to wriggle out of their meeting. And she had a sneaking suspicion- a niggling in the Force, in the back of her mind- that she was being followed. Another lesson from Korriban: people following you, and taking pains to avoid detection, rarely meant you well. All Sith learned that lesson quickly, or they died.

It had not been easy to set up the meeting. She'd had to call in a favour with Darth Reliyk's agents in Imperial Intelligence, who had first searched the Red Codex for promising contacts and then set up a meeting with a man who had spoken to a man who had spoken to a man who had arranged the meeting. Getting Intelligence involved had been a risk, controlled as they were by Darth Jadus, but if tonight paid off it would have been a risk worth taking. And if it didn't… well, Darth Reliyk could always find himself another apprentice. She doubted she'd be of much use once Jadus had finished with her.

Going behind the backs of two Dark Councillors was insanely suicidal, and insanely exhilarating. Sith fed off adrenalin, off the thrill of taking risks. For a disciple of the Dark Side, danger only made things more fun. And if she was successful, she was confident Darth Reliyk would forgive her a little bit of intrigue.

She had reached her destination. The Dark Heart was one of the seedier casino/cantina hybrids in the Entertainment District, which of course made it a magnet for any Sith Apprentice or young Imperial Aristocrat out looking for fun, that most addictive of drugs. The meeting had been arranged to take place in one of the back rooms, away from prying eyes or ears. The instructions had been clear, and woefully unimaginative. Come alone. Come unarmed. Tell nobody. Standard underworld deal, really. Loka had been keen to get into the spirit of things, and had indeed left her lightsaber back in Reliyk's speeder as instructed. Her mysterious stalker was causing her to regret that decisions slightly but, she supposed, it would a good exercise in adaptability. After all, a Sith was never truly defenceless.

There was a lengthy queue outside the door, which Loka took great pleasure in blatantly jumping. Brushing off the scandalised whispers behind her, she made confidently for the bouncer at the door. He was a Feeorin; seven feet tall, built like a Wookiee, the blue-green skin of his bared chest covered in scar tissue. His eyes locked onto her, identifying her as a trouble maker, and began to move.

Loka moved faster. Her hand quickly flashed past his face, and she muttered quietly under her breath. "_You will let me in. No questions_."

The bouncer blinked, then his eyes glazed over. "I will let you in," he murmured, almost to himself. "No questions."

"Capital." Loka patted him cheerfully on the back and, chuckling, ducked past him through the Dark Heart's doorway. Behind her, the Feeorin blinked again, shook his tentacled head in confusion, and returned to his post.

Three hundred years ago, a Sith Lord undercover in the Republic Army had captured a single moment of Malachor V's destruction in the Force, now frozen forever in time. Something about the Dark Heart's interior reminded Loka of that image, a dying world imploded by its own gravity. It repulsed her and yet, in an odd way, appealed to her as well. Whoever had designed the cantina's architecture had defied convention and enforced their own design on the building, fearlessly looking deep into the darkest depths of the universe for inspiration. They would have made a good Sith.

The Dark Heart was certainly seedy, but in a sophisticated sort of way. By the entrance stood a reception desk manned, or in this case womanned, by a green skinned Twi'lek. She was dressed in the typically revealing outfit of a Twi'lek dancer, the effects of which were slightly offset by the ugly looking shock collar attached to her neck. A slave, then, rather than an employee.

Loka made her way over to her, hugging the folds of the hood close to her in order to hide her face. The Twi'lek looked up at her approach, and gave her a wide, beaming smile. "Welcome to the Dark Heart, madam," she said, with what Loka sensed to be slightly forced cheeriness. "Can I get you a table?"

"Not thanks," muttered Loka, keeping her head bowed. "I have a reservation. Code _Mynock Delta Seven_."

The receptionist recoiled in surprise. "Oh. I see." She tapped a recognition code into her terminal, her manner now more nervous than welcoming. "Mr Xainak? Your guest is here."

She tapped her earpiece, and gestured hesitantly to a side door. "He'll see you now. Through the door, third on the right. Use this key card."

Loka nodded her gratitude. "Thank you. _This meeting never happened_."

She left the receptionist dully repeating the words she had just spoken, and slipped through the doorway she had pointed out. The corridor was dark, barely illuminated by the glo-orbs that hovered in the air, yet another intriguingly disturbed part of the Dark Heart's design. Loka was beginning to see why it was so favoured as a hang out amongst her fellow apprentices.

Following the receptionist's instructions, she stopped in front of the third room on the right. A small plaque on the durasteel door informed the world that whatever lay behind it was private, on pain of unspecified consequences. Somehow, Loka doubted they included a polite request to leave the premises.

She scanned the key card she had been given against the sensor, and the door slid open with a serpentine hiss. The room within was just as dark as the corridor outside, sparsely furnished and with only the dim light creeping under the shutters to highlight the hulking figure who sat at the far end of a long table. Loka smiled her usual cheery smile, and stepped inside. "I assume you are my contact?"

"If I weren't, would I be so undisturbed as to your entering my private room?" The voice was surprisingly cultured for someone so big, and carried an air of confidence and authority with it. "I must admit," it continued, "I am somewhat surprised that you turned out to be so young. Are you sure you know what you're getting into?"

"Not at all." Loka sat down at the near end of the table, taking care to keep to the shadows. "Isn't that what makes it fun?"

"Fun…" The being Loka had already mentally labelled as Mister Shadyface seemed to savour the word. "Fun is certainly one way of putting, young lady, but I'd be careful as to how deep you go. The underworld will not spare you for your youth."

"Story of my life. Listen, as much as I'd love to trade banter for the next half hour, I don't have much time. So," Loka finished. "Do you have the package?"

"Of course," Mister Shadyface replied. Loka moved forward, but he held up a hand. "Ah, ah, ah," he chuckled. "Credits first."

Loka scowled, and Shadyface laughed gently. He tapped a button on what was either a gauntlet or a prosthetic arm, and two sets of glowing lights appeared in the gloom behind his shoulder. "Before you attempt anything rash, may I draw your attention to the two droids behind me? One false move, and they'll turn you to ash before you can say 'backstabbed'. Understood?"

Loka paused and then, reluctantly, reached into her cloak and pulled out a small data chip. "Here. Half a million credits, as agreed. The transfer is completely untraceable on either end. Just plug it into your account and watch the numbers flow." She placed it down on her end of the table, and flicked it across. Mister Shadyface reached across to take it, and for a moment his face was illuminated clearly in the second-hand light of the city. A Nikto, and dressed far better than most of his kind. Intriguing. She cleared her throat. "The package?"

"Right here." Shadyface hefted a square briefcase up onto the table and gestured for Loka to take it. She got up warily and crossed to the other side of the table, reaching out for it. The Nikto grabbed her wrists suddenly, his scaly grip like iron. "Before we all shake hands and walk away, I thought we might do a little renegotiation. My people went to a lot of trouble to secure this little trinket, certainly more than half a million credit's worth."

Loka met his steely gaze with an even steelier one of her own. "We had a deal, sir."

The Nikto released his grip and shrugged. "Consider this a free lesson in business, my dear. People are always going to take advantage of you, and you must never walk into a negotiation empty handed." He smiled, as only a lizard man can. "Perhaps you could see your way to making the price two million credits? If not, I'm sure my bodyguards could persuade you."

Loka took a step back, putting as much distance between herself and the droids as possible, which was admittedly not very much. It was a small room. "Two million? Forget it."

Shadyface's eyes narrowed. "Don't be a fool, girl. I'm part of the Exchange. You're lucky I don't just take everything you have on you and leave your smoking corpse in some alleyway. Which I might just do anyway. Do you still think this is fun?"

Loka grinned. "Oh, yes. Definitely."

"Then you are mad."

"So I've been told."

The two continued to stare each other down. Finally, the Nikto lost patience. "Enough. I want to see just which foolish child I'm about to give a sorely needed lesson in reality. Show your face."

_And so it begins._ Loka felt her pulse quicken, as it did whenever she was about to cut loose. "If you insist."

She could have just lowered her hood, but Loka was never one to pass up an opportunity for drama. First, she let go of the stream of Dark Side energy that she had been drawing on since she entered the Entertainment District. Her camouflage dropped, and bright yellow eyes glowed in the depths of her shadowed face. Shadyface recoiled in shock, and Loka flung back her hood, her theatrically jutted jaw showing off her prominent cheek spurs. Her only regret was that she did not have a lightsaber to complete the show. But we take what is given, she supposed.

Mister Shadyface leapt up from the table, and swore. "Sith!" He gestured angrily to his droids. "Kill her!"

The droids raised their blasters, at the same moment as Loka reached out with the Force and hefted them into the air. One actually managed to get of a shot, which perhaps unsurprisingly given its situation went wide, before she clenched her fist and crushed them into sparking metallic debris.

Mister Shadyface backed away nervously as the remains of his bodyguards dropped to the floor, with a clatter that was to him horribly reminiscent of a coffin lid falling into place. His bravado had entirely vanished "Perhaps I was too hasty, Sith…" he began. His back hit the wall, but he kept on going. "I'm sure we can come to some other arrangement…"

"Yes, we can," agreed Loka. "You will give me the package, and in return I will let you live." The Nikto grasped at his throat as an invisible hand closed around it and lifted him off his feet. "Just nod."

Shadyface nodded frantically, as frantically as a being in a Force choke can, and Loka let him go. The Nikto scowled as he pulled himself back up, his fear contested by his anger. "Take your prize and leave, Sith. Never contact me again."

Loka picked up the box on the table, and began to leave. At the door, she paused. "One more thing."

A blaster flew from the grip of a fallen bodyguard droid and into her hand. Loka took aim and fired. Mister Shadyface collapsed, cursing, as her shot took him in the knee. She looked down on him sternly. "It's 'my lord' to you." The door slid shut.


	6. Chapter 6

_I know it's been a long time since my last update. I suspect a large portion of my small readership has lost interest, and I can't really blame them; I hate it when my internet entertainments go on hiatus, especially without warning. So before I continue I'd like to apologise for the absence, and thank anyone who might have come back for their patience. I'll try to give notice next time I go on a long break._

_Tulak Porg, Dark Lord of the Sith_

Loka left the Dark Heart quickly, no longer bothering to hide her face. The package was now in her possession, and the sooner she reached the protection of her master's stronghold the better. The needling sensation that she was b

eing followed was back, and stronger. One she reached the Kaas City Spaceport she would be reasonably safe, but there was a long stretch of back alleys between her and the nearest air taxi pad. If her unknown stalker was going to make their move, it would mostly be somewhere in that maze of slums and backstreets.

But a Sith must allow themselves no fear: fear was a weakness that could give an enemy an advantage for them to capitalise on. It didn't really matter which enemy. Any Sith worthy of the title had at least a dozen to spare. So Loka entered the back alleys of the Entertainment District without a hint of anticipation, though she made sure to stick to the shadows and continually cast her senses about her in an attempt to pinpoint any pursuit.

Outwardly, she was perfectly calm as she jogged along, but inwardly Loka was horribly aware of how alone she was in these deserted alleyways. It would have been safer to stick to the crowds, but she could not risk a pleasure-hunting Sith picking up even a hint of what was in the package she carried. The isolation was, regrettably, necessary. And even without her lightsaber, she was far from defenceless. She could handle whatever bounty hunter or mugger was on her trail. Probably.

The streets were getting darker, and for all the Sith delighted in the metaphorical Darkness the literal stuff could be damned annoying sometimes. Even with her above-average night vision, Loka found herself relying on the Force to navigate most of her path. Unfortunately, her pursuer did not seem to be having any such difficulty. They were closer now, much closer. Somewhere just about…

_There_.

Loka turned and lashed out with the Force. The hunter who had been stalking her for the past two hours was yanked unceremoniously out of the window alcove they had been crouching in and fell to the floor in a sprawling heap. With startling speed and agility, they flipped back onto their feet and dropped into a fighting stance, fists raised.

Loka wasn't going to bother with that. Her attacker was knocked off their feet with a well-placed Force push and fell amongst a discarded heap of scrap metal. An instant later, the stakes were raised; whoever the hunter was drew a blaster pistol and fired three shots at the Sith apprentice, who ducked for cover behind a run down power generator. The attacker adjusted their angle, trying to get another shot, then grunted as their weapon was tugged out of their hand and went zooming into the outstretched hands of their target.

Loka took careful aim, pulled the trigger, and then screamed as a non-lethal but very painful surge of electricity shot through her body when the identity-imprinted weapon didn't recognise her DNA. She dropped the blaster, cursing, and was instantly shoulder-barged and sent sprawling to the floor. A rare beam of moonlight glinted off the edge of the vibroblade that winked out of the looming hunter's gauntlet.

Once again, Korriban came to her rescue. Acting on instincts honed by years of life-or-death struggles with her fellow acolytes, Loka flung her hands forward and unleashed a barrage of Force lightning. The assassin's cries were cut off as Loka's follow-up Force push flung them backwards, and their head fetched a sickeningly loud crack against the concrete walls.

If they hadn't been wearing a helmet, Loka thought as she pulled herself to her feet, the impact would have killed them. Instead they just had to deal with head-splitting concussion which, considering how they had just tried to kill her, didn't bother Loka too much. Important safety lesson, kids: when engaged in fights to the death, always wear your… standard issue Imperial Intelligence helmet?

Loka darted across to her groaning victim and yanked the helmet off, subjecting it to a rapid once-over. Her eyes narrowed into glowing yellow slits. "I thought so. You're one of Keeper's little goons." She had a moment of terrifying realisation. "Did Darth Jadus send you?"

The agent groaned deliriously. Lightning crackled at Loka's fingertips. "Answer me!"

The agent's eyes flickered open. "My lord… whu..?"

Loka dropped him impatiently and thought hard, pacing furiously. If Jadus was onto her, she was as good as dead. Worse than dead! Might Darth Reliyk protect her? Of course not. A Dark Lord had no time for an apprentice stupid enough to get herself caught, no Sith did; his political capital would be much better used elsewhere. She began to sweat, then shook her head. If she brought Reliyk the artefact instead of keeping it, then she might just be able to convince him to defend her from his fellow Dark Councillor. Yes, that might work-

Loka's head snapped round again. "Wait a moment… _did _Darth Jadus send you?" She fixed the still semi-conscious agent with a glowing yellow glare, even as she felt a flicker of hope. Was she just jumping to conclusions? Might this be completely unrelated to her going behind the Dark Lord's back and using his resources for her own ends? She advanced dangerously, predator like. "Who sent you?"

The agent was slowly regaining consciousness. A little too slowly, in fact, so Loka gave him a helpful little shock to speed things up. The agent jolted awake, and backed away in horror from the seething Sith towering over him. Loka crossed her arms. "Answer me, Imperial. Who sent you? Was it Jadus?"

"What? No!" protested the agent, a little groggily. "You think… you think I'm important enough to gain _Jadus' _attention?"

Loka sagged with relief. _She was safe._ And more importantly, unless she was very much mistaken, this meant that she had just successfully outwitted a Lord of the Dark Council! How exhilarating was _that_?

The agent was edging slowly but surely away from his captor and towards the blaster, lying discarded some feet away. Loka saw his movement out of the corner of her eye, and made a small gesture. The blaster skittered away down an alleyway, and became lost in the gloom. "I don't think so. For the last time: _who do you work for?_"

Her voice was layered with the power of the Force this time which, combined with no small amount of fear on the captive's part, broke the agent's already addled will. He told her. Loka's face darkened, and at the end of the agent's tale she nodded grimly to herself. "You're certain?"

"Yes," nodded the agent, earnestly. "He said this was my big chance. My final test to earn my promotion to Cipher."

"And that's good, is it?" Loka asked. "A fancy number instead of a name, Agent..?"

"Darick, my lord. And it's every operatives dream career move; I've been waiting for the opportunity for years. Only the best get to become Ciphers."

Loka shook her head in despair at the short-sightedness of these spy types. "Alright. Get out of here."

"Yes, my lord," said the agent, backing off. Loka felt the relief washing off him as he turned to leave. He had got as far as the end of the alleyway when she felt the clouds of suspicion creep across his mind, and he turned, suddenly frowning. He strode back purposefully, eyes narrowed, looking very inquisitorial. "Just one thing, my lord…" he said, and in that moment he suddenly reminded Loka of an Intelligence Interrogator she had once seen break a Republic spy without lifting a finger. "You mentioned Darth Jadus. Just why would the Dark Lord have sent an assassin after you?"

Loka froze, and closed her eyes. "Oh, Darick," she muttered. "You just couldn't walk away, could you? You just _had _to do your job."

She remembered another lesson from the Academy, one that Darth Baras had spent many hours drumming into his student's heads under the heat of Korriban's sun. _Never leave any loose ends…_


	7. Chapter 7

_The Domina_

_Orbiting Taris_

Rheni batted aside a stray blaster bolt, and removed the hand of the pirate who had fired it. Hand and blaster fell to the floor as the Jedi stepped over both, not breaking stride, leaving it to his sister to slam the pirate into the bulkhead and render him unconscious. Two pirates further down the corridor turned mid-flight to fire a couple of parting shots; the first went wide, and Rheni deflected the last back into its owner's leg. The pirate fell, cursing her fellow as he ran on without her.

_Turn left_, said a voice in Rheni's head, and he did so, entering another corridor that ran the length of a hallway before ending in an elevator. A small group of pirates stood there, one of them pressing frantically at the call button while the others glanced nervously over their shoulders. When they saw the Jedi and their marines approaching them, some panicked and tried to jostle their way free of the crowd; others raised their blasters and opened fire.

Rheni and Livia shielded their troops from the worst of the fire, their lightsabers sweeping in intricate blue arcs which caught every shot fired and turned them back against their attackers, whilst the marines opened fire. The pirates were trapped between the lift door and the Republic boarding party, with no escape. One by one, they were gunned down, until the few survivors managed to throw down their weapons and surrender. Rheni ordered a detachment to escort the new prisoners to the brig, and when the sergeant protested that this would deprive them of much needed manpower, he curtly repeated his command and stared him straight in the eye. The sergeant, who had faced down Sith Marauders in his time, found himself feeling distinctly uncomfortable under the sightless gaze of his Padawan commander, and meekly acquiesced.

The lift doors opened with a soft hiss. Rheni stepped forward, but the sergeant held him back. "Wait a moment, sir, before you charge in" he said. "What are we dealing with on the other side?"

Rheni glanced at Livia, who looked down through the floor and seemed to concentrate. After a few moments, she seemed to nod to herself and looked back at her twin. "There are a lot of them. Twenty-three, to be precise. All stinking of fear and desperation."

"Then we've got a problem, sir," the sergeant said, matter-of-factly. "That lift will only take five at a time, and they'll be gunned down the moment the doors open."

"Liv and I could go first. We should be able to handle a few pirates."

The sergeant shook his head. "With respect, Master Jedi, you'd only get killed. In a confined space like that, they'll just keep shooting you until you die. Nowhere to manoeuvre, and you'd slice each other to bits trying to block their blaster bolts."

Livia nodded in quiet agreement. "What do you think we should do, then, sergeant?" she asked, softly.

The sergeant thought for a moment. "Grenades," he said at last. "Toss a few grenades into the lift, and when the doors open the pirates will be in for a shock or two."

"Alright," agreed Rheni. "But concussives only, understand? No explosives."

The sergeant rolled his eyes behind his helmet. "Yes, sir. Concussives only." He nodded to the squad's demolitions expert, who handed him five concussion grenades. The sergeant keyed the activation code into each, released the pins, and tossed them with a practiced arm into the elevator. He turned to the two Jedi. "You may want to make sure those don't go off until they reach the bottom."

Rheni nodded and reached out with the Force, feeling the energies of the grenade, building rapidly and about to explode. With a shaping of his will, he held the charges safe within their casings, cocooned in the Force. At the same time, Livia waved her hand, closing the lift doors and sending the car down, down, down to the cargo hold.

Through the Force, the twins felt the lift slow to a stop, and the doors slide open. They felt first the confusion, then the mounting panic of the pirates below. They felt the energies of the grenades, barely held in check and straining at their bonds to be released.

_Now_, whispered Livia's voice in his mind, and Rheni released his mental hold. The twins did not need the Force to feel the explosion; the vibrations from five separate concussion blasts rose up through the floor and through their boots, numbing their toes and making their ears ring. And then suddenly, everything was still.

"Right," said Rheni, when his ears had stopped ringing. "Liv and I will go down first, just in case anyone's still awake. We'll comm you with the all clear."

"Yes, sir."

"Have you given any thought to what we're going to do once we've liberated the slaves, Rheni?" Livia asked, as the lift doors closed. "Until Master Aelia secures the bridge, we're likely to be surrounded by hostiles."

The lift began to hum gently as they descended. Had Rheni been human, or indeed any other species with eyes, he would have likely given his sister a reassuring glance. Instead, he opted for a gentle mental nudge. "Liv, we've been surrounded by hostiles since the moment we set foot on this ship. It hasn't bothered us so far."

"We haven't had a large number of non-combatants to defend yet," Livia reminded him, her voice gentle but pointed. "Once they enter the calculation, or situation will become a lot more complicated."

The lift doors opened as Rheni sucked his teeth in thought. "Good point. We should probably stay in the detention level until we get the all-clear. Speaking of all-clears…" He tapped the comm on his vambraces. "Everything's good down here, Sergeant. All hostiles are out for the count."

"_Copy," _said the static voice of the sergeant. _"I'll send my men down in groups of five."_

The Miraluka twins settled down to wait for their back-up, and their minds settled into meditation, as they had been taught. The whole ship stank of the Dark Side, clouded as it was with fear and anger, but threading through that mess of emotion was one clear strand. The twins latched on to it, and followed it to its source on the bridge of the _Hyrim_.

_Master Quintus, _thought Rheni, his voice carrying through the Force. _We're nearing the detention level._

_I see you._ Quintus' voice was calm, in contrast to the turmoil prevalent on the pirate ship, and a welcome solace. _The slaves are being kept in a series of cells just off the next corridor, in a converted cargo bay. You should hurry. Your enemies are gathering, and I don't like the readings that I am getting from them. I fear our rescuees may be in danger._

Rheni closed his mind, and reached out for his sister through the Force. "You got all that?"

"Of course," she replied. "Let's go."

Beside them one of the Republic soldiers, a corporal, looked concerned. "With respect, Master Jedi, the rest of the unit isn't here yet. Fifteen marines may not be enough."

"They'll have to be. We're running out of time." Rheni's lightsaber ignited with its characteristic _snap-hiss_, its blade illuminating the gloomy corridor in an eerie blue light. "If you're worried, stay behind us. We'll cover you."

"Sir, I really must register my concerns-"

"Duly noted," said Rheni, beginning to stride purposefully down the hallway. "Now get a move on."

Military discipline forestalled any further dissent, and the squad followed on behind in the wake of the Jedi. The ship's corridors rang once more with the hum of lightsabers and blaster fire as marine, pirate and Jedi alike clashed in the confined spaces.


	8. Chapter 8

On the other end of the ship, the pirates holding the entrance to the bridge were having a hard time containing the invaders. Aelia and her marines had stormed their way to the command deck entry hatch with little difficulty, leaving a heap of dead or disabled pirates in their wake. Now they stood at the brink of success, with only a handful of slavers standing between them and control of the ship. This was an obstacle that would soon be overcome; already, the pirates' resolve was weakening, and with every comrade to be gunned down by blaster fire or cut down by lightsaber it fell a little lower.

Some pirates, more level-headed than their comrades perhaps, had identified the Jedi as the greatest threat. Aelia batted aside a series of blaster bolts all aimed at her heart and head; most dissipated harmlessly against the bulkhead, but two caught their owners squarely in the chest and took them very conclusively out of the fight. She reached out with the Force, and hauled another pirate through the air towards her. Mid-air, he was decapitated by a clean saber stroke; before head and body had hit the floor, Aelia had moved, crossing the remainder of the hallway and closing the distance between her and the pirate resistance. With the Jedi now among them, dealing merry hell left and right with her lightsaber, their defence finally broke completely, those not dead or injured fleeing back onto the bridge, heedless of the angry cries of the man who sat in the command chair.

The Republic forces stormed the bridge, surgically precise blaster fire taking out the few guards who moved to try and stop them. Aelia strode to the front of her troops, and locked eyes with the Trandoshan who sat at the head of the bridge. "I take it that you're the captain?"

The lizard-man slowly rose from the chair. "Jedi. Come to die?"

"After today's performance? I don't think that's likely, do you?" Aelia levelled her saber. "Surrender. Release the slaves, and give yourselves up. I promise you will be shown mercy."

The Trandoshan did not seem to hear. Instead, he was eyeing her all over, as if measuring her up. "The Scorekeeper offers many points for Jedi, especially grown ones," he muttered. "Your death will honour me greatly in her eyes."

Aelia exchanged worried glances with her lieutenant, and did her best to laugh. "I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I really am out of your league. You'd only be killed."

Again, the slaver captain ignored her. With a dull scrape, he drew his vibroblade from its sheaf on his back. "There is no honour in underhand tactics. Such trickery disgraces the Scorekeeper. You and me Jedi, to the death. No help from our men."

"Alternatively, I could just order my marines to shoot you where you stand." Aelia raised a hand, and the soldiers around her raised their blasters and took aim. "You're outnumbered. I doubt I would lose a single trooper. Much simpler."

The Trandoshan grinned, or at least tried to, but such expressions are very difficult to pull off when you have a reptilian face; all he managed was a lizard-like facsimile of a grimace. "That would not be in keeping with the Jedi Code, would it?" he hissed.

_He has a point, dear,_ said a voice in her head.

Aelia scowled. _Shut up, dad. I'm trying to solve this problem without any unnecessary risks, like you taught me._

_Ordering your men to gun down your hopelessly outmatched enemies is certainly not what I taught you, Aelia, _the voice of Quintus chided. _Remember the Code. There is no emotion, there is peace._

_Hang the Code. If it's just going to get in the way, then I'm afraid it's going to have to get broken._

_And now you know how I feel, almost every day_. Quintus' voice sounded tired. _The Code has an infuriating tendency to make life difficult, doesn't it? I mean, sure, you could take the easy path now, and just shoot him. He is a slaver after all, and he did just threaten to kill you, so he arguably deserves it. You wouldn't have too much trouble defending your actions to the Jedi Council afterwards._

_Thank you!_ Back in the real world, Aelia raised her voice. "OK, everyone, on my command-"

_Of course,_ Quintus continued, _by that logic, the next time you're faced with a young Imperial soldier trying to surrender, you should probably just kill him too. He may not have asked to be in this war, and he may well only be fighting for fear of his Sith commander, but he _is _serving an evil empire based on the whole-hearted embrace of the Dark Side. If you killed him, I'm sure few people would blame you. Except maybe his family, and that nice girl he was seeing when he was on leave. They might hold it against you._

Aelia snarled aloud in frustration, earning confused looks from everyone else on the bridge. _Do you have a point?_

_My point is that if you break the rules for good reasons, it won't be long until you're breaking them for bad reasons. That's what the Jedi Code is for; it keeps us in check, and holds us to the straight and narrow. _Quintus' mental voice took on a serious tone. _It's what keeps us from becoming just like the Sith Lords we fight in the name of righteousness. We may resent the rules, and we may bend them on occasion when the circumstances call for it, but breaking them is the first step on the path to the Dark Side. When you're a super-powered space wizard with the ability to kill people in a dozen different ways with just your mind, morality stops being a duty to aspire to and becomes an essential instead. Otherwise you may as well don those ridiculously over-sized shoulder pads and start calling yourself Darth Whatever right now, because that's exactly what you'll end up as. Even if you still call yourself a Jedi._

There was a long, mental silence. Then Aelia sighed. _So you're saying I have to accept his offer for single combat?_

_Don't be ridiculous! _Quintus sounded shocked. _That would be a terrible idea! Just don't kill him, that's all. One slaver is not worth losing your soul over._

She grinned. "I can do that."

In front of her, the Trandoshan blinked, startled by his prey's sudden return to the Land of the Speaking. "What? You can do what?"

"This."

Aelia's hand made a wide, sweeping gesture. The captain snarled in frustration as his vibroblade ripped itself from his scaly grip. Pirates scrambled to get out of its way as it flew across the bridge, pin wheeling through the air, until it finally embedded itself in a control console on the far side of the command deck. "Stun him!" shouted Aelia, and her lieutenant put a low-power blaster bolt into the captain's chest. The Trandoshan collapsed into his chair, even as the Jedi leapt across the deck and landed on the main terminal, sinking her lightsaber deep into the ship's navigation console. She turned to face what was left of the crew, and the sparks from the console lit her grinning face with an eerie blue glow. "Ladies and gentlemen! Unless I'm very much mistaken, I've just disabled whatever fancy systems you use to steer this heap of junk. We, and more importantly our ship, are now your only hope of survival! With this in mind, perhaps you'd like to reconsider your captain's response to my offer for your surrender?" She stood triumphantly atop the half-molten navigation console, enjoying the effect. "Well?"


	9. Chapter 9

Hi guys,

I'm really glad you're sticking with me this far. I'd really appreciate any feedback you'd care to leave in the reviews; tell me what's good, bad, needs improvement, any ideas you have, whatever!

I'll be out of town next week, so there won't be another update until Friday 20th. Sorry for the delay.

Tulak Prog

/

_Imperial Intelligence Headquarters_

_Dromund Kaas_

Keeper barely blinked when the body of one of the Minders landed on his desk, fetching a loud crack to the head and scattering datapads all over the floor. He signed off on the report in his head, and calmly rose to his feet. "Good evening, my lord. How can I help you?"

He calmly surveyed the young Pureblood on the far side of his office, seemingly unperturbed by her pulsing yellow eyes and livid expression. "Does Lord Reliyk have a complaint about our handling of his case? If so, I must request that he take it up with Darth Jadus rather than-"

"Shut up," Loka snarled. Keeper raised an eyebrow, but fell silent. He watched as the Sith crossed to his desk, and started scanning his datapads. "I'm afraid those are confidential information, my lord," he said, his voice still level but firm. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Loka slammed the datapad back down onto the desk, and turned to face him. "Where is Watcher Three?"

"Watcher Three?" Keeper frowned. "I believe he is in a meeting with the other Watchers. I can summon him now, if you wish." He keyed a quick sequence into the number pad on his desk. "Watcher Three, please report to my office at once. There's a Sith to see you."

He turned his inscrutable stare back to the apprentice, impatiently pacing his office. "May I ask what he has done to warrant such a violent reception?"

"I think we'd better wait 'til he gets here, don't you?" said Loka, her voice carrying that all too familiar festering cadence of Sith fury. "How long will it take?"

"Not long, my lord," said Keeper, turning to watch the entrance to his office. "The briefing room is only a quick- ah, here he is."

Watcher Three entered the room, his expression guarded. Then his eyes flashed across to the Sith, now no longer pacing, and though his face still gave nothing away, the Force allowed Loka a moment of insight, a brief flash of apprehension and dawning fear.

_Gotcha. _

The Watcher stood at ease before the desk. "You summoned me, sir?"

Keeper nodded. "Our esteemed guest wishes to speak with you, Watcher Three. Though about what, she refuses to say."

Watcher Three shrugged, seemingly nonchalant. "I'm sure it's nothing important, sir. Can I help you, my lord?"

Loka's eyes narrowed, their piercing yellow light boring into the man before her. "You can explain why you ordered one of your agents to attack me, yes."

Keeper's eyes widened, as a brief moment of shock slipping past his professional mask. "Watcher…?"

"I have no idea what she is talking about, sir," Watcher Three said, blasely. "My conduct in office has been nothing but exemplary."

"_Don't lie,_" snarled Loka. "Agent Darick told me everything. You ordered him to follow me, and steal the… _package_ I was carrying."

"Did I?" Watcher Three's face betrayed no sense of alarm, but through the Force his emotions told a different story. "I know Darick. Very eager. Though why he took it into his head to attack you, I have no idea. Perhaps he wanted to impress me."

"Why did he decided to attack me?!" said Loka. "Gee, I don't know… maybe because _you ordered him to?!_"

Watcher Three turned to Keeper. "Sir, these accusations are baseless. I don't know why Agent Darick wants to implicate me- I personally suspect a plot by a rival agent to unseat me- but I assure you that I have had nothing to do with this."

Keeper did not need to be a Sith to see that Loka's emotions were beginning to get the better of her. "Darick tried to kill me!" she snarled. "Did you order him to do _that_ as well?"

"I really have no idea what you are talking about, my lord," said Watcher Three, a shade irritably. "And besides, you will never be able to prove it."

Loka's eyes flashed. "I don't need to prove it."

Her hand flexed into a vice like grip. Watcher Three was cut off mid-retort, and began to gasp for air. "Don't… be… stupid…" he managed to splutter, before his eyes began to glaze over, and he dropped to his knees. Loka towered above him, her usually cheerful face twisted into a snarl worthy of a tuk'ata. "_No-one_ tries to rob me like that, Imperial."

Keeper looked on calmly as his subordinate began to turn an interesting shade of blue, his professional mask never slipping. He coughed. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to release my Watcher, my lord," he said softly, moving so that he stood just behind the Sith's shoulder.

Loka barely spared him a glance. "Request denied," she said.

"You misunderstand me. It wasn't a request."

The choke-hold lessened slightly, so that Watcher Three could desperately grab a few rasping breaths, and Loka turned her head to face the unassuming middle-aged man beside her. "I'm sorry? _Not a request?_ You know the law, Keeper. I am entitled to seek my revenge in any way I choose."

"That is so," Keeper conceded, his voice dropping to a murmur. "However, may I ask you to consider your position? You are here, alone, in one of the most secure buildings in the galaxy, surrounded by men and women who are very good at very particular skills. You might be interested to know that you are not the first Sith apprentice who, in the heat of their passion, has decided to settle a score with Watcher Three."

Loka's eyes widened, and Watcher Three convulsed suddenly under the surge of rage that had just constricted itself around his neck. "Are you threatening me, Imperial?"

"Of course not, my lord," said Keeper. "I am merely stating the facts as they are."

Loka felt a niggling in the Force, and glanced behind her. They were still alone in the office, but the corridor outside was much busier than she remembered. Half a dozen beings, some in a uniform, others in street clothes, were milling causally about, leaning on the lockers, chatting with each other, their tones completely innocuous. None of them seemed to be armed.

Loka felt a chill run down her spine, and she released her grip. Watcher Three collapsed to the floor, lungs heaving, and Keeper sat himself back down, nodding in satisfaction. "I'm glad we were able to resolve this without bloodshed, my lord. Rest assured, your complaint will be thoroughly investigated through the proper channels. Give your master my compliments."

He returned to the datapads he had been reading when Loka came in. Loka suddenly felt very drained, and very foolish. She could just imagine what her master would say if he ever found out about this; Reliyk was always telling her that a Sith must be in control of their emotions, not the other way around. She doubted that he would be pleased to learn that his apprentice had stormed Imperial Intelligence in a fit of fury, and attempted to execute a high-ranking officer in front of the spymaster himself. She scolded herself silently. _You can rely on me_, indeed!

She headed for the exits, but on the way out, she paused. Watcher Eleven was co-ordinating with one of the security droids at exit to the landing pad, seemingly taking some sort of status update on his datapad. She leaned back against the doorway, waiting until he had finished his task and was walking back inside, before stepping out to meet him. "Watcher? Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Watcher Eleven looked startled at the sudden appearance of a Sith, but managed to regain his composure in time to sketch a respectful bow. "Of course, my lord."

"Thanks." Loka gathered her thoughts. "If an operative were to be given a mission, I assume that a record would be kept, yes? For bureaucratic reasons?"

Watcher Eleven nodded. "Yes, my lord. We keep exhaustive records of all activities, in case we need to trace people or connections in future operations."

"So it's not just regulation: it also serves a practical purpose?"

Watcher Eleven nodded.

"So, hypothetically speaking, were an operative to be given a mission that was, shall we say, unofficial in nature, a record of that would be kept to?"

He seemed to think about it. "I think so, my lord," he said. "Maybe not in the main database, but I've been here long enough to know that everything leaves some kind of data trail. It shouldn't be hard to trace, if you knew what you were looking for." His eyes darkened with sudden suspicion. "Why?"

"Don't worry about it, Watcher," Loka said quickly, before the whole thing could degenerate into a re-enactment of her unfortunate scene with Darick an hour or so earlier. "I just want you to do some digging, that's all, find out what you can concerning Agent Darick, any connections with Watcher Three, and so on."

Watcher Eleven's frown deepened. "That's against regulations, my lord. Watcher Three is my superior; I doubt he'd appreciate me digging around in his private files."

"The last I checked, Intelligence served the Sith," said Loka. "I am quite within my rights to request that you find this information. In fact, I could command it." A vision of what might happen should he refused her command rose up in her mind like a spectre, and she hurriedly changed tack. "But don't feel like you have to. I'd just appreciate it, that's all."

Watcher Eleven watched her thoughtfully, before nodding slowly. "I will give it due consideration, my lord," he said.

"That's all I ask," Loka said. She began to walk towards the bridge that led back to the Sith Sanctum, then stopped and looked back. "And, for the record, a tuk'ata would totally beat a vine cat. Come to Korriban some time, and see what I mean."

Watcher Eleven smiled. "Visit the Kaas jungles, my lord, and see how long you last without needing an emergency kolto injection." He bowed again, in farewell, and went back inside. Loka chuckled gently, feeling her natural good humour return, and made her way down to the Sith Sanctum's transport hub, where she would get a shuttle to take her to her master's stronghold on the other side of the jungles. She was beginning to think like a real Sith again; mindless rage was all very good on the battlefield, but the Dark Side worked best through deception and subtlety. If Darth Reliyk had wanted someone to solve problems by bashing down doors and murdering people he would have picked a warrior for his apprentice, not her. She would accomplish much more by being patient and gathering data than she ever would meeting her problems head on.

She glanced at her watch. Still two hours of what you might loosely term evening left. Her little detour had cost her, but provided she left right away she didn't think Reliyk would mind too much. And if he did, she had a whole shuttle trip to think up a good excuse.


	10. The Exam Season Strikes Back: A Hiatus

Merry Christmas, everyone! And a very miserable exam season, too. The story is going to have to go on hiauts whilst I double down on revision and study. I will release a new chapter on New Year's Day, but after that there won't be any new content until February. I hope you're patient with me, and I'll try to make it up to you all afterwards.

May the Force be with you.

Tulak Porg.


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